She kept her eyes closed. “Please forgive me coming up, Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three nights, and—Brendon and I—we were afraid that you might be unwell. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. . She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again.
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